


Rules

by girlyjuice



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, F/M, Handcuffs, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Sub!Amy, dom!Jake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlyjuice/pseuds/girlyjuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake figures out that Amy's obsession with following rules might extend farther than paperwork and police codes, and he decides to test his theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules

Amy lives to follow rules. Always has. She was the teacher’s pet from the very moment she even had a teacher, always bringing apples to school, writing expressive and ruthlessly-edited compositions for English class, handing in her assignments carefully paginated in color-coded plastic covers. Rules, order, organization – these things just work for her brain. They make her feel clear-headed and purposeful. She likes knowing what’s expected of her, so she can do it – perfectly.

Jake knows this about Amy. He’s watched her file her flawless paperwork daily for years. He’s heard her prattle off lists of police codes and their meanings with the same kind of pride he feels when he quotes _Die Hard_ dialogue verbatim. The only major rule she’s ever broken, to his knowledge, is getting Holt a birthday gift when she wasn’t supposed to, and even that was in the service of sucking up to a superior. She’s a teacher’s pet through and through, and she’s proud of it.

He secretly likes this about her. But he also suspects her obedience could be put to better use than cop forms and walkie-talkie lingo.

“Santiago,” he says when she arrives at the precinct at precisely 8:57 A.M. She’s surprised to see him at his desk already. He’s never on time for work, let alone early. He takes a sip from his coffee cup without removing his gaze from her. “Got a little proposition for ya.”

_Nope_ , he thinks immediately after he says this. _If it’s a proposition, she can say no. It’s gotta be an order._

Once she’s settled at her desk, coat off, computer booting up, she turns to look at him quizzically. He gets up and leans against her desk, arms crossed. Trying to make her feel small in her chair.

“Remember when I said I wished something could happen between us? Romantic stylez?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s gonna. Tonight.” He gulps and hopes she doesn’t notice how nervous he is, how much he’s sweating. “Sexual stylez, too.” It takes all his self-control not to back off, adding _JK, as if!_ or _I mean, if you want to, that is._

There’s a pregnant pause, punctuated only by the sounds of Captain Holt tapping away at his keyboard and the distorted hiphop coming out of Gina’s headphones.

Finally, Amy says, “Okay.” She looks at him like she can’t believe what just came out of her mouth. “Where?”

“In the evidence locker. Eight o’clock. I’ve got an extra key to the precinct.”

He can see the beginnings of a protestation on her face immediately – such a by-the-books kind of girl would, of course, think twice before having sex at work – but the confidence with which he’s delivered his spiel seems to have rendered her complaints moot.

Jake thinks he’ll seem more authoritative if he exits the conversation before he can make an ass of himself with a nervous joke or a dumb facial expression. So he starts toward the coffee machine.

“Jake?” Amy says.

“Yeah?”

“What should I wear?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Her face crumples. He can tell this is not what she wanted to hear. _Oh yeah. Rules. She loves being told what to do._

“Wear that black velvet dress you wore to the office Christmas party a couple years ago.” It’s the first item in her wardrobe that comes to his mind – maybe because he’s spent many a late night picturing her in it, picturing it crumpled on his bedroom floor. “And wear your hair down,” he adds, eyeing the neat bun at the nape of her neck. Then, with a sudden rush of courage, he leans in too close and murmurs right in her ear, “And no panties.”

He turns on his heel and walks away, hoping to god he pulled it off, knowing he did. He grins to himself. _Nice!_

 

 

* * *

 

He first got the idea months ago, because of the _Fifty Shades of Grey_ incident. Gina brought the book to work, already halfway through it, and didn’t put it down all day. (Holt was, luckily, clueless enough not to ask why his personal assistant was reading porn while on the clock.) Of course, the rest of the team heckled her in the break room when she continued reading all through lunch.

“That book sucks,” Rosa grumbled, sipping coffee. “I read half a page at Barnes and Noble to see what the big deal was. It’s _so_ bad. It’s like an eight-year-old wrote it.”

“Yeah, and it’s not even realistic,” Amy added. “I mean, no Dom/sub relationship would ever work like that.”

“What do you mean?” asked Charles, digging into the sandwich he’d brought for lunch.

“Well, Christian Grey just gives Ana a contract and makes her sign it. He doesn’t negotiate with her; he doesn’t even really ask her if she’s okay with what he wants her to do. He just… does it.” Amy actually looked kind of angry as she said this, which didn’t happen very often. “In real life, if BDSM is going to be healthy and safe, both people have to consent to everything. A Dom can’t just do whatever he wants. The sub has to want it too.”

This was the type of tirade that normally would have earned a person some serious mocking at the 99, but something about Amy’s impassioned tone seemed to render everyone silent. All they did was nod in agreement.

Jake, more than anyone, would ordinarily have made some cruel comment if anyone else had dared to demonstrate knowledge of kinky sex. But instead, Amy’s speech just got gears turning in his head. It all made sense, suddenly. Of _course_ someone so obsessed with procedures and protocols would have some deeper reason for feeling that way. Of _course_ a chronic rule-follower like Amy would have strong feelings about how rule-makers ought to act.

He didn’t want to make fun of her. He wanted to be that responsible Dominant she was talking about.

After lunch, Jake pushed aside the paperwork he’d planned to do that afternoon and loaded up Google. He typed, “Good BDSM sex,” clicked Search, and started to read.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Though he’s been researching kink for months (the fun kind of research; the kind that can end in masturbation), Jake still doesn’t feel totally confident in his Dom persona.

Playing to his strengths, he’s structured this whole little “project” the same way he normally approaches his undercover assignments: his character’s got a name and backstory (Clark Savageman, high-powered attorney whose authoritative nature extends into the bedroom), a voice to help him get into the role (deep, gruff, slow), even a signature stance (chest out, eyes up, fists planted on hips).

But all of this preparation falls by the wayside when Amy walks into the evidence locker. He realizes it was never going to help him to become Clark Savageman. Amy is expecting Jake, and Jake’s the only person Jake can be. Hopefully a bossier version, more confident, more sexual and masculine and certain of himself, but ultimately still Jake.

Amy’s biting her lip apprehensively as she watches him, and she looks beautiful. She peels off her coat, folds it neatly, and places it on top of a nearby box. The black velvet dress clings to her shapely hips and those surprisingly toned arms he rarely gets to see out of her work blazers. Her chocolate-brown hair spills over her collarbones in uncharacteristically unkempt waves. As Jake’s eyes finish their slow roam down her body, he notices she’s bare-legged, and it reminds him: there’s no panties under there. At least, assuming she followed his order. Which he’s pretty sure she did.

He realizes neither of them have said anything yet. He clears his throat, squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to gather the strength to be the kind of man she wants him to be tonight, and then – action – the scene begins.

“While we’re here, you will call me Sir. You’ll do what I tell you, or you’ll be punished.” He watches her face carefully for any sign of, well, anything – excitement, fear, anything – but her expression remains stony. “We’ll have a safeword that you can say if anything goes too far and you want to stop. The safeword is Scully, because that name is sure to kill the mood immediately.”

She giggles a little, then quickly straightens her face again. He tries not to show how thrilled he is. He hoped the Scully thing would make her laugh. He may be roleplaying as a Dominant but he’s still Jake, still has to make wisecracks, especially ones that Amy Santiago will like.

“You clear on all that?” he asks.

“Yes.” Her eyes widen. She knows she’s made a mistake. “I mean – yes, Sir.”

Jake raises her eyebrows at her. “Careful, Santiago. Wouldn’t want me to have to punish you, would you?” She shakes her head forcefully. “Now, sit,” he tells her, wheeling out the chair from under a nearby desk. She lowers herself into it, keeping her spine straight like the perfect little schoolgirl he knows she is on the inside.

“I brought some… things,” he says. He wanted to say _toys_ but it felt too trivial, too juvenile. He’s a Dominant now; he has to act like an adult, and speak like one too. “I’ll let you decide which one we should use first.”

He retrieves a paper bag from the floor where he set it down. Out of the bag, he pulls out, and sets on the desk in front of Amy, three objects: a pair of shiny silver handcuffs, a black leather paddle, and a sizeable purple dildo. With the reveal of each new item, Amy’s eyes go from wide to wider to widest. Jake has to stifle a laugh at her obvious surprise but it also makes him so hard that he wishes he could just grab her and fuck her on the desk right now. _Cool it,_ he tells himself. _Build it up. Give her what she wants. Then you can get what you want, if you play your cards right._

“I – I think we should start with these,” Amy says, pointing to the cuffs.

A moment passes before she realizes her mistake.

“Sir! I meant to say, I think we should start with these, _Sir_ ,” she frantically amends, but it’s too late. Jake steels himself for what he’s about to do; he made a rule and now he has to enforce it.

“I told you to call me Sir, and you forgot. What happens to girls who forget to do what they’re told?” he says gruffly. He doesn’t wait for her answer. Grabbing her roughly by the arm, he forces to her feet and bends her over the desk. With the swift fluidity of a man who’s cuffed hundreds of perps in his day, he pulls Amy’s wrists together at the small of her back and clicks the cuffs closed around them, just tight enough to dig into her wrists a little.

Then he pushes her dress up. Amy Santiago’s bare ass is under his hand. He’s as stunned as she is about this, and is grateful she can’t see his bewildered expression now that her face is planted against the cold metal desk.

“I’m sorry, Sir!” she wails, though by the way she’s wriggling her ass against his hand, she doesn’t seem that sorry.

Earlier this month, Jake spent a couple hours poring over a webpage titled “The Art of Erotic Spanking,” taking diligent notes in a steno pad and practicing in mid-air. He learned to cup his hand in the way that would supposedly produce the naughtiest noise. He studied a diagram of the most sensitive areas of the human butt. He weighed the pros and cons of paddles, floggers, belts, hairbrushes, and plain ol’ hands.

But all that research flies out of his head now, and he just goes on instinct.

_SMACK._ He’s done it. He looks down and sees a red handprint already forming on Amy’s creamy ass. She groans, hisses – but raises her hips back toward him. _More. She wants more._

_SMACK._ Again. The other side this time. His research is starting to come back to him now.

_SMACK._ “You like that, Santiago?”

_SMACK._ “Yes, Sir,” she croaks.

_SMACK._ “Well, you’re not supposed to. This is a punishment.”

_SMACK._ “Yes, Sir.” He can hear the slight smile in her voice.

It goes on for a little while longer before he remembers that he has a paddle at his disposal and doesn’t have to keep using his hand. But all his research didn’t prepare him for the discovery that he would _like_ using his hand. He picked the leather paddle because it looked sexy in the store and he figured having a prop would make him seem cooler and like he knew what he was doing, but now that her ass is all red and warm and squirmy against his hand, he’s not sure he needs the paddle after all.

He pulls roughly on the chain of the cuffs, yanking her back up to a standing position, and then shoves her against the wall. Suddenly overcome with hunger for her, he moves in to kiss her – and then, just as suddenly, thinks better of it. He holds his face inches from hers, so close he can feel her breath as she pants from the exertion of the spanking.

She fights against him, trying to get close enough to kiss him. But he holds her arms firm against the wall, doesn’t let her get what she wants. Then he laughs a little, right in her face. _Damn_ , he feels cool now. In control. Like a boss.

“Trying to kiss me?” he taunts. “What makes you think you deserve that? You’ve gotta earn that kind of thing, Santiago.”

He’s so hard, it feels like his cock might actually cut through his jeans… which would definitely be embarrassing. He needs to be inside some part of her, now. A voice in the back of his head whispers that it might be too soon for that, and that Amy might not be willing or ready for that next step, but… he needs her. She can always use the safeword if anything gets out of control, right?

He snakes his hands up her arms to her shoulders and pushes her down til she’s kneeling on the floor in front of him – which, he notes with growing excitement, she seems to do eagerly and with minimal pressure from him.

“You’re gonna suck me off, Santiago.” He waits a beat, then two, giving her time to protest if she’s uncomfortable. But all she does is stare determinedly ahead at the fly of his pants and strain against the cuffs. So he undoes his button and the zipper for her and, _oh_ , before he knows it, his cock is in her mouth.

And she’s _very_ good at this. Better than he ever would have expected from buttoned-up, perfect, goody-two-shoes Amy – though, to be honest, there have been more times than he can count when he’s watched the way her pouty lips rest on the edge of her coffee cup or the way she sticks her tongue out a little when she aims a gun and he’s wondered what it would feel like to have that pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock. And now that’s exactly where it is and it’s way better than he even dared to hope.

Her lips are tight around his shaft and her tongue swirls along the underside, massaging his most sensitive spot with alarming accuracy. She swallows him deeper and deeper until finally he feels the head of his cock bump against the back of her throat. She coughs, splutters a little, but keeps on sucking and bobbing up and down and _oh fuck_ , he’s definitely going to come if she keeps moving her mouth exactly like that…

Regretfully, but with a newfound sense of what he wants to do next, he laces his fingers into her hair and gently pulls her mouth off of him. She pouts up at him, shoulders flexing as she struggles against the cuffs so she can swallow him whole again, but then he tells her, “Good girl,” and she relaxes under his touch. There’s that signature Amy smile, the small, self-satisfied one that plays across her face when she’s in teacher’s pet mode and has just earned herself a proverbial gold star.

“You’ve been so good,” he affirms. “Maybe you deserve a reward.” Her eyes light up even more.

He pulls her to her feet and steps behind her to unlock the cuffs. While he’s there, he leans in and kisses her shoulder, her neck, that one spot behind her ear she once mentioned in a drunken game of Truth or Dare at Boyle’s beach house. She squeals with pleasure and he smiles against her neck.

He presses his achingly hard cock against the sensuous velvet of her dress as he unzips the garment, following the descending zipper with a series of alternating gentle nibbles and sharp bites. She cries out with each touch of his teeth. He hopes there’ll be marks there in the morning.

When the dress is, at last, in a pile around her ankles, he pushes her back toward the desk until she’s fallen onto it ass-first. Then he sits in the chair and rolls it up to the desk, shoving her knees apart when he gets there. Her fully naked pussy now sits in front of him, apparently shaved for the occasion. She’s so wet he can smell it and it takes every ounce of willpower he has to keep himself from diving straight in.

While he sinks his teeth into her thigh to leave some more bite marks (and to make more of those delicious whimpering sounds come out of her mouth), he walks his fingers along the other thigh to the apex of her labia. “ _God_ , you’re soaked,” he mutters against her soft skin. “Bet you loved sucking me off, huh? You love being told what to do. You love that I’m in complete control and you have to do whatever I say.” He moves closer to her sex and digs his sharp teeth into the spot where her thigh meets her pelvic mound, and she gasps. He pushes two fingers inside her and she gasps louder. “You’ve been such a good girl, Amy. You want me to make you come? Should that be your reward?”

He looks up at her and sees that he has her in the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively. Her cheeks are pink with arousal, and she’s panting so much that it takes her a moment to answer him. “Yes, Sir. Please.”

“Please, what?” He moves closer to her centre and lightly bites her mound, right above her clit, while hooking his fingers up toward her G-spot.

She makes a garbled moaning sound that he really, really wants to get her to repeat. “Please make me come, Sir,” she manages.

And those are the magic words he needed to hear. He dips his head down lower and slurps her clit into his mouth, his mouth that had begun watering the moment he smelled her arousal. He slides his fingers in and out of her cunt, loosening up her tightness a little, while his tongue spears her clit, slips up and down, so desperate to taste her and make her come apart on his mouth.

Her clit is swollen and firm against his tongue and he _loves_ it, has always loved doing this to any girl, but has never felt quite so turned on from having his face between a woman’s thighs as he does right now. The way she’s writhing around, pressing her cunt up into his face, totally at his mercy, just spurs him on and makes him want to lavish as much attention as possible on her engorged little nub.

Testing a private theory he’s had about Amy for months, he digs the nails of his free hand into her tender thigh while giving her clit the slightest, softest little nibble – and with that, she comes. _Yep._ He was right. Pain gets Amy Santiago hot.

He keeps his lips and tongue moving on her clit, riding it out with her, wringing the maximum amount of pleasure out of her little body. When she finally relaxes and her internal muscles stop squeezing his fingers tight, he slowly pulls them out of her and holds them up to her face. Obediently, she licks and sucks her own come off his fingers without even needing to be told.

“I’m glad you enjoyed your reward,” he says darkly as he watches this, “but I’m afraid you didn’t get my permission to come.”

As he withdraws his fingers from her mouth, she looks suddenly alarmed. “I – but – you – “

“I didn’t hear you say, ‘May I come, Sir?’ but you came anyway. That doesn’t sound like something a good girl would do, now, does it?” he asks. He picks up the abandoned paper bag from the floor and takes out the last item that was in it: a small bottle of lube.

“No, Sir,” Amy says, dejected. He almost wants to laugh at how profoundly submissive she is. Her entire self-image is riding on her ability to impress the authority figure in her life, which, at this moment, happens to be him. Fortunately he doesn’t intend to abuse that power.

Jake picks up the dildo from the edge of the desk, where it rolled to when Amy fell on top of it earlier. He’s about to start pouring lube on it when he notices Amy’s eyebrows are knitted together in displeasure.

“What is it, Santiago? Something you want to say?”

She’s hesitant to speak, but clearly this is important. “Do you have to use… _that_ , Sir? Couldn’t you just… do it yourself?”

He lowers the dildo. “What do you mean?” He knows exactly what she means.

“I mean… Please, Sir. Please fuck me. With your cock. Sir.”

He smiles. She’s got the hang of this now.

Truth be told, he probably would’ve done it even if she hadn’t asked nicely. It’s not like this is a chore.

In seconds flat, he’s out of his jeans at last, and his shirt is unbuttoned and pushed off his shoulders. Amy helps him with this, even though she didn’t ask permission, and that’s okay because he’s so desperate to be inside her that he’s willing to take any possible shortcut to get there faster. Abandoning his disinterested Dom persona for the time being, he pushes his naked body against hers and mashes his mouth against her lips, making her gasp. He tangles his hands in her long hair, pulling it a little. He’s still the boss, after all.

He hands her the condom he retrieved from his jeans pocket. “Put it on me,” he breathes. She makes quick work of the wrapper and rolls the rubber sheath down the length of him. He waits to see if she’ll take any liberties – cup his balls, linger a little too long – but she doesn’t; just finishes putting the condom on him and then sits back and smiles expectantly, like the dorkiest, most arrogant little teacher’s pet he’s ever seen.

And that does it. He grabs her hips in his hands, pulls her closer, and slams into her, _hard_.

She squeals in two parts delight, one part pain. He roughly manhandles her legs, pulling them to wrap around his waist tightly. God, he wants to make her come again. Doesn’t even care that much about his own need at this moment. Just wants confirmation that he did this right, that this is what she wanted, that this is what gets her off. That _he_ can get her off.

He leans her back a little so the angle will be better, and feels the change immediately in the way she moans and tightens against him. “You like that?” he grunts, knowing she does. She can’t even speak to answer, just nods and bites her lip and cries out with each thrust.

Now he’s really in the zone, and words just start spilling out of his mouth, things he never scripted in all his research and didn’t even know he could say. “Yeah, I know you like that. You’re such a little suck-up, Amy. All you want is someone to tell you what to do so you can do it. You want me to _own_ you. Well, I do. You’re mine. You’re my toy, Amy. I can do whatever the hell I want with you. You have to do everything I say.”

He wraps his fingers around one of her hips and dips his thumb down onto her clit, moving it in circles as he continues to pump in and out of her at a frantic pace. “Does that feel good, Amy? You like how I feel inside you? Feel how hard I am because of you? You’re such a good girl, Amy…” He knows this is working for her because she’s sopping wet and getting wetter and hotter by the second, and a steady stream of high-pitched coos and squeaks are coming out of her mouth as he talks.

“When I say so, Amy, you’re gonna come for me… I wanna feel you come all over my cock. I’m gonna make you come so hard.”

He leans over, pins both her arms above her on the desk while his other thumb keeps circling her clit, and then he buries his face against her shoulder and bites down, hard. “ _Now_ ,” he says, and she lets out a strangled moan and comes, spectacularly. Muscles clamping down around him. Lithe sweaty body going taut under his.

That just about exhausts all Jake’s self-control. He pumps into her once, twice, three more times, and then his own release overtakes him, making him bite down on her shoulder even harder to contain his moan.

They stay entangled for what seems like a long time, hearts thudding, breath slowing. Amy’s legs go slack around Jake’s waist, and he finally pulls out of her. “Good girl,” he says weakly. He sits back down in the desk chair and tenderly pulls her toward him until she’s curled up in his lap, where he holds her. Her naked skin is so warm, so soft.

“Jake?” she says at last.

“Yeah?”

“How did you know?”

“How did I know what?”

“That I would like that.”

He’s so, so pleased with himself, but tries not to be an ass about it. Just gives himself an inward self-five. “I just… know you pretty well, Santiago. I had a hunch.”

“Oh.” She smiles up at him, and kisses his cheek. “Well, your hunch was spot-on.”

He smiles back. “Yeah, that’s pretty obvious.”

She punches him lightly on the arm, then notices the paddle and dildo still lying on the desk in front of them. “We didn’t get around to using those,” she points out.

“That’s okay. They can be for next time.”

 


End file.
